Isildur's Heir
by awilliamsbbc.98
Summary: Thirty years after Bilbo's return to the Shire darkness is once again stirring in Middle Earth. Gandalf the Grey seeks aid from a young ranger who has spent his life evading the destiny he may now have to face, but with bandits who seem to know his secret and looming betrayal Aragorn may be in more danger than the wizard had ever foreseen.-Chapters 1-3 now revised; same plot
1. An Unexpected Revelation

__IMPORTANT: I am slowly editing and revising this story. I realized that the earlier chapters in particular have a few errors and am correcting them. The plot remains unchanged although some scenes will be slightly extended or reworded to improve their flow.__

 _ _All credit for the characters and the poem goes to Professor Tolkien. This is a mix of bookverse and movieverse and begins about thirty years after the conclusion of The Hobbit; movie version.__

 _ _The road goes ever on and on,__

 _ _Down from the door where it began.__

The village of Bree lay nestled in a the wooded region between the meeting of two great roads, or rather, roads which had once been great; the Greenway, which runs from the North to the South of the land and had long since fallen into disrepair and was little used and the Great East road, which, as its name suggests, runs from East to West. As one might expect from its location so near the two roads Bree boasted a modest number of merchants and a no small number of weary travelers were wont to take refuge there when caught unawares by storms or darkness on the roads. Bree boasted one inn which lay nearly at the town's center and had long since become known as a refuge for weary travelers, provided they had enough coin to merit shelter on stormy days or dark nights. Business thrived even in dark times when few travelers dared to walk the roads.

One such weary, footsore traveler was known only as a ranger from the North; no one seemed to know anything about him and he volunteered no information. He had only ever stayed within the walls of the inn, or those of the town for that matter, for long enough to deliver a message or replenish his food stores. The folk of Bree were quite content with this arrangement for they were inclined to be suspicious of the quiet and inscrutable rangers and much preferred that such strange folk in general left them well alone.

On the particular rainy afternoon which begins our tale the ranger limped through the doors of the inn, much to the chagrin of the innkeeper. He had seen this strange wanderer before, as most inhabitants of Bree had, but there had never been occasion to speak with him. It seemed that was about to change as the fellow limped to the bar with the gait of someone who was at the end of his strength.

Tom, for that was the innkeeper's name, saw with foreboding that the mud on the fellow's face was in no small part mixed with blood, and he resisted the instinct to conduct this conversation with the ranger at the end of a crossbow.

"Gandalf, is he here?" The man's appearance may have been rough, as were his manners, but his accent was somehow strange and lordly. Tom nearly bowed before he remembered himself.

"Gandalf?" The name seemed familiar, but many travelers passed that way and Tom wished nothing more than for the dangerous looking fellow to limp back into the rain from whence he came. Tom was not a bad sort, but any disturbance in the routine of his life was unwelcome and he felt this ranger may well cause such disturbance. It was better he carry on his way and leave the folk of Bree to carry on with theirs; so Tom believed.

The clear, grey eyes flashed with barely contained annoyance. "The wizard, the old greybeard, is he here?"

Tom's simple mind struggled for a moment, caught between his wish for the ranger to be gone and the strange feeling that he ought to answer the fellow's questions. It took a moment more to match the face with the name and he though fearfully that the ranger's next words would be accompanied by a knife at his throat. "The wizard," he stammered, memory slowly flaring. "Oh! The wizard, yes of course! He's here." He paused again before reluctantly adding, "I'll fetch him for you, shall I? Who shall I say is here to see him?"

The man began to speak, seemed to think better of it and at last seemed to decide on "Strider." as his name.

Tom resigned himself to waking a wizard with the news that a man traveling under a name which was not his own wished to see him. However glad he was to escape the piercing grey gaze he was infinitely more terrified of waking the old wizard.

"I'm liable to end as some unnatural creature." He shuddered. Luckily for Tom's continuation as a natural creature Gandalf was already awake and smoking a pipe. At the mention of Strider's name his thick eyebrows descended like stormclouds. He huffed a great cloud of smoke from his pipe and rose with all the seeming rage of a wakened dragon. Tom beat a hasty and somewhat ungraceful retreat, half stumbling down the stairs in his haste to escape whatever havoc the rage of a wizard might cause.

In the room below Strider steadied himself against the bar and shook the water from his hair and cloak. Confounded rain and confounded wizards; never late nor early, but always with impeccably bad timing. He was weary and cross and trouble had met him upon the road. Whatever friendship he bore with Gandalf he would have much preferred not to be summoned such a distance to his side in the midst of a week long spell of rain. His temper did not improve at the sight of Gandalf looking dry and well rested; he scowled as the wizard approached.

"Well met, ranger." The wizard glowered at him. "If the elves taught you nothing else perhaps they should teach you the meaning of time; you're late."

It never failed, no matter the circumstances or his mood Gandalf's remarks never failed to amuse him and he chuckled in spite of himself. "I was delayed."

"And bleeding unless I am very much mistaken." The wizard's expression darkened to one of concern. "Perhaps we had better sit down."

The ranger waved his hand dismissively, but nonetheless allowed himself to be led to a table in the corner. He sat with a sigh and stretched his long legs out towards the fire, grimacing as the movement strained a fresh cut across his left leg. He frowned and Gandalf regarded him intently.

"You are troubled, Aragorn. What has happened?" Perceptive as ever the keen, blue eyes seemed to bore through him.

"There were bandits on the road," he began cautiously.

Gandalf lit his pipe and blew a smoke ring that took the form of a leaping wolf. "There are always bandits on the roads; how is an honest bandit to make a living but by the purses of unwary travelers?"

"Not on the Greenway." He chose to ignore the final half of Gandalf's statement. "And not searching for the man who wears the ring of Barahir."

Gandalf nearly choked on his pipe. When he had slightly recovered and waved the smoke away from his now unlit pipe he demanded, "Did they recognize you?"

Aragorn looked down at the ring in question; it seemed out of place on his hand, caked with mud and blood as it was. His faced seemed to age, cares descending on his brow, and he nodded. "But they won't be telling anyone."

"And you old friend? Are you injured?" Again the piercing blue eyes were far too perceptive for Aragorn's liking.

He half shrugged. "Nothing rest won't cure." It was true enough. They sat in silence as Gandalf relit his pipe and smoked until Aragorn seemed to remember the purpose for his journey to Bree in the first place. "Gandalf, if you didn't know the bandits were looking for me then why did you summon me so urgently?"

The old wizard suddenly looked older still as he began to recount his encounter with the darkness at Dol Guldur nearly thirty years previously. Aragorn sighed and resigned himself to a lengthy retelling before the final point of the tale would become clear, but in fact it did not take as long as he had assumed. "It's back."

He blinked, feeling as though he surely must have missed something. "The darkness you and the White Council defeated?"

"It was not defeated. Merely delayed and forced to flee into the East. He is back and this time I fear it is a more permanent stay."

Aragorn felt a creeping dread and shivered though the fire in the inn was burning brightly. "You mean the darkness was Sauron, don't you Gandalf? You hinted at such before and my father would not let you speak of it in my presence." The wizard said nothing, his face veiled by smoke, and that was answer enough. At last Aragorn understood and sighed heavily. "It is not Strider, the ranger, whose aid you need, is it, Mithrandir?"

The silence which followed was long and tense until at last Gandalf folded his empty pipe into a pocket of his robe and sighed. "No," he admitted heavily. "It is the aid of Isildur's heir."

 _The story is mostly complete, but rather than post all at once I will tentatively commit to posting on Fridays, Sundays and Wednesdays. Drop me a review and let me know what you think._

 _A_


	2. Strange Meetings

__IMPORTANT: This chapter has been significantly revised, the plot, however does remain the same.__

 _ _Here is the next chapter as promised! Thank you for the wonderful reviews and enjoy this chapter!__

 _ _Now far ahead the Road has gone,__

 _ _And I must follow if I can__

"Strider!" Of all the foolish things Gandalf had come to expect of his oft times foolish young friend, vanishing without a word into a stormy night, alone, exhausted and, in all probability, injured was not one of them. True, he had not expected a calm and reasonable reaction to his mention of the ranger's heritage, but this seemed rather excessive. He had expected the look of betrayal on the man's face when he spoke of his ancestry; that was something which could be resolved, but only if Aragorn would let him explain the necessity which forced the wizard to place such a burden upon him.

"Aragorn! You must stop this foolishness!" Gandalf leaned on his staff and glowered at the forest as the rain soaked his grey robes. He felt a deep foreboding settle in his bones. Dark times were descending once more upon Middle Earth and even he could not forsee what might lie before him among the trees. He knew the ranger would take the woodland path; his time among the elves of Rivendell made him nearly as at home among the trees as his adopted elven family. Aragorn, once Estel of Rivendell, would seek peace there and solitude to ease his troubled heart; Gandalf feared he would find neither.

"Fool!" The Istari huffed in annoyance and it even he did not know whether he referred to the ranger or to himself. Nevertheless, there had never been any question in his mind; fool or no he would not abandon Aragorn to whatever dangers lay before him. He stepped from the main path and onto the little used woodland road. The crystal set in his staff became his only guide through the rain soaked darkness.

The fool in question had, in fact, heard his friend's calls, but he was in no mood to answer them. To become the very thing which made him hunted, to allow for even the possibility of becoming as greedy as his ancestor was unthinkable to him. That Gandalf, a trusted friend, a mentor even, would push him towards such a path felt like betrayal. He was Aragorn, son of Arathorn, Estel of Rivendell, he would even be Strider the ranger, but the one name he would not, could not, accept was Elessar, heir of Isildur, king of Gondor and of Arnor. To accept such power would be folly in his eyes for ever had the blood of men been easily corrupted.

He shivered and pulled his tattered cloak closer. It was foolish to be wondering through the night, limping rather;the cut on his leg from a bandit's knife still pained him. Still, there was more peace to be found in the woods than in the crowded inn. At least among the trees he could choose his own path and his own destiny, if only for a few precious moments.

Even lost in unpleasant thoughts as he was his ears were keen enough to to detect the sounds of a camp before he stumbled into the midst of it. Even so, had it not been for his earlier encounter with the bandits he might have been less cautious and continued on his way, unheeding. As it was he kept well back from the fire light, his mud caked clothing aiding the shadows in concealing him; he made up his mind to listen and determine if the voices belonged to friend or foe. It did not take him long to discover which and his blood chilled when he recognized the Black Speech of Mordor. They were orcs, and from the sound there were no less than twenty; too many for him to fight alone even uninjured. Still, to find an orc pack so close to a human town, especially one as larger as Bree was nearly unheard of, and curiosity drew him closer. He hoped to hear enough of their foul words to understand their plan before he returned to Gandalf with the news of their presence.

At the thought of Gandalf, Aragorn cursed silently. The wizard would undoubtedly have followed him; at least to where his path left the road. Perhaps even now he was searching for him and unaware of the danger. Though surely he would not have wondered from the road Aragorn worried for him. The orcs in the camp might not be alone and even now Gandalf might be walking into an ambush.

Aragorn knew now he had been a terrible fool. To react so strongly to Gandalf's mention of Isildur had been foolish enough; it would be greater folly now to linger in the shadows trying to understand the Black Speak while a friend was in danger. He turned to slip away; to find the wizard and warn him, but as he did so the foot of his injured leg caught on a branch. He stumbled, sinking to the ground and biting back a cry of pain. The world spun dizzily around him as he fought to regain his composure. Though the noise of his fall had passed unnoticed by the orcs the flash of pain led to his second mistake in as many hours. In the brief moment he allowed himself to rest before rising the wind shifted. Exhausted as he was Aragorn failed to notice the shift and the fact that the breeze now bore his scent directly to the keen noses of the orc hunters.

Gandalf muttered a few choice phrases in dwarvish when he lost the ranger's trail for the third time. Where the tracks were present he could see that Aragorn was struggling, limping. Of course the stubborn man had been injured, regardless of what he said, and Gandalf felt a wave of regret. He should have insisted that Aragorn rest rather than first discussing more troubling matters. He drew in a breath to call the ranger's name again, but the foreboding that had haunted him since he entered the forest suddenly grew to an almost tangible form and froze the sound in his throat.

A shadow loomed before him; impenetrable as the darkness far below the earth and no less stifling. The crystal in his staff flared with the sudden fullness of its power; the white light pushing against the shadow and driving it back from his mind and from his sight. The oppressing presence receded and was replaced by one less threatening. He was no longer alone in the forest and though the sensation of being watched by unseen eyes made his skin crawl this new presence was not inherently hostile.

Suddenly he smiled and lowered his staff. "Show yourself, son of Thranduil!" he called in Sindarin, one of many elven tongues. Without so much as a rustle of leaves a tall, golden haired figure, clad in green and carrying a bow, melted from the shadows before him. "Well met, Legolas." The wizard greeted and could nearly have embraced the elf in relief.

"Is it well met, Mithrandir?" the elven prince seemed less than pleased, and there was thinly veiled animosity in his tone. "Is it your doing which has brought the filth of Mordor so far from the Black Gate?"

"Mordor?" The grey eyebrows came together in a ferocious scowl.

"An orc pack;" Disgust coloured the elf's voice. "I have been trailing them for days, since they passed the halls of my father. It is rare any should venture so far from their own lands." Legolas frowned at the wizard's silence. "You did not know."

"No, I did not." He grasped the elf's arm, suddenly the reason for the terrible dread seemed clear. "Have you met a ranger, here in the woods tonight? His name is Aragorn, but you may know him already as Estel of Rivendell."

"Estel? He is here?" Legolas' brow darkened with worry before he seemed to brush it aside. "I have not seen him since he was a child."

"I have been a fool!" Gandalf struck his staff against the ground in sudden anger. The elf offered no contradiction and his animosity towards Gandalf was another mystery to the wizard, but he had no time to question him. "Come Legolas, if there is indeed an orc pack in these woods Aragorn will undoubtedly encounter them. We must hurry!" He added when the elf hesitated.

"It is true that you have long been a friend to my people, Mithrandir, and for that I thank you, but many years have passed since I counted you among the company of __my__ friends. Why should I aid you?" His voice was cold as the distant stars and Gandalf did not like to think how closely he resembled his father, King Thranduil, in that moment. Of the two Gandalf had ever found the son to be the more reasonable and less haughty, now he had reason to question his judgment.

"Curse the stubbornness of elves! If you will not aid me, Greenleaf, then aid the adopted son of Lord Elrond! You knew him when he was but a lad and you know how precious he is to the lord of Rivendell." His eyes blazed and the forest suddenly seemed to echo with his power.

"Very well," Legolas relented, though he did not seem intimidated by Gandalf's show of temper. "Lead on, but I do this for the sake of the friendship I hold with Elrond and his kin; not for you, wizard."

Gandalf sighed and his heart was heavy as he took up his search for the ranger's trail.

 _ _Next update will be Wednesday, possibly Tuesday. Let me know what you thought! :-)__

 _ _A__


	3. Shadows in The Dark

__I had an unexpected amount of free time and so decided to update three days early. Consider it a thank you for the wonderful reviews! I have been incredibly inspired by the amount of support this story is receiving! Thank you everyone! And, apologies to AndurilofTolkien, who was hoping Gandalf and Legolas found Aragorn before the orcs.__

 _ _Pursuing it with weary feet__

 _ _Until it joins some larger way__

Aragorn stopped to listen; the silence lay unnaturally heavy and it troubled him. The woods were always alive with the sounds of bird and beast, even on dark, damp nights, to those who knew how to listen. The woodland creatures would only fall silent at the approach of some danger and he realized with a sinking heart what it meant; the orcs were on the move. Whether they were trailing him or their paths were the same by coincidence it scarcely mattered. They could not now fail to catch his scent; the chill wind gusted in his face as if to mock him with its betrayal.

His only chance lay in finding Gandalf before the orcs found him, and as much as he loathed the thought of leading the foul creatures to his friend he was left with little other choice. He surely had not wandered so far from the main road that he could not reach it quickly. With all his years of wisdom surely Gandalf would have remained on the road; he could not have been so foolish as to venture into the woods alone. Perhaps the wizard had even stayed at the inn and was now waiting for Aragorn to return. And yet, the ranger was not sure of it. Above all Gandalf would have wanted to ensure his safety and that meant tracking him through the forest even at night and even alone. He cursed his own foolishness and ran; his best chance lay in reaching the road, even if Gandalf was not there.

But, as luck would have it orcs were not the only nor the foulest fell creatures in the woods that night. Aragorn's blood nearly froze in his veins when he glimpsed the tall, thin form, hooded and cloaked in tattered black between the trees ahead. He slipped and nearly fell in his haste to stop, to hide before the evil creature could sense his presence. Gandalf had long since warned him of the sleepless malice which had been awakened in Angmar and once more roamed the land. The wraiths never lost their prey nor turned from their purpose and only one in all Middle Earth held the power to command them; Sauron. It could be no coincidence that led such a servant of evil to Isildur's heir.

He would have turned and fled in terror but now he could hear the approach of the orc pack. No longer did they make an effort to conceal the tramp of their booted feet which shook the very ground. Aragorn could no longer deny that he was being hunted; both by shadow and by orc. He was trapped between certain death and the looming terror of a worse fate; if the wraith took him he would become nothing save another mindless servant of Sauron. It took him no more than a moment to decide; sword in hand he chose death and turned to meet the orcs.

Gandalf was all too aware of Legolas' silent footsteps behind him; still reluctant to aid him even for the man he knew only as the child Estel. The elf Gandalf had once called friend no longer held the same friendship for him, but why remained a mystery; a mystery which must be left unsolved until Aragorn was found. He lifted his staff and its silver light shone on an almost invisible boot print in the moss. "He went this way."

Legolas did not follow and Gandalf turned to meet his steely gaze. "Have you considered that he may not wish for you to follow him?" Before Gandalf could answer the elf's countenance changed suddenly. His eyes focused on something far away and unseen and when his spoke it was as if his voice echoed. "Mithrandir, ennas na- gwath hi; ho na- tul." _ _There is a shadow here; he has come.__

"I know; I sensed his presence though I had yet hoped to be mistaken. Legolas, if he finds Isildur's heir the world of men will fall; Lord Elrond has foreseen it." Aragorn's fate now lay with a stubborn elf whose heart had long been tainted by bitterness, for Gandalf knew he alone must face the wraith. But, his fate lay also with a friend of his childhood who had not yet forgotten the laughter of a child whose name meant hope. The memory must be enough for Legolas to lay aside his bitterness and it was.

"I will find him; it seems you have other business in these woods tonight. The wraiths of Angmar are not easily denied their pray; have care." For a moment Legolas was as Gandalf remembered him best, and then his expression hardened once more and he vanished into the shadows.

Gandalf was left alone with his growing fear that they were already too late. He feared darkness, it was true, but while darkness could but torment him for a time and then end his life it had the power to utterly destroy Aragorn. He would become a mindless thing; a wraith bound forever to the will of Sauron until the world faded. The ages of men and elves would end in fire; the time of the orc would come. The great forests of the earth would burn; the elves slaughtered or fading in the ashes. Leaderless, the men of the West would stand before the terror, resisting for a time until they too crumbled and were lost. Flame and darkness would cover the face of the world until its breaking.

These things Lord Elrond and Galadriel, Lady of Light, had foreseen if the line of kings was ended; if Aragorn fell. Gandalf pushed the images of terror aside. There might yet be a chance if Legolas reached him in time. If Gandalf could hold back the dark power of Angmar hope might yet live in the hearts of men and the dark power would not triumph.

When at last he faced his foe the wizard knew he had gravely miscalculated. The looming shadow before him was no mere wraith of Angmar; he was their king. Beneath his tattered hood the outline of a jagged crown was visible and in his hand he held a great sword, glittering darkly with evil power. Though his face was shadowed, Gandalf felt his eyes burn through him and he felt the terror of their meeting.

The king, however, seemed unconcerned with the wizard before him. He barely spared hi a glance before striking out with a gauntlet clad fist. The dark iron struck Gandalf a fearsome blow across his brow and for a moment he knew no more. The wraith hunted a more valuable prey that night.

The orcs made a great amount of noise in the otherwise silent forest and the keen ears of the elf heard the sounds of battle long before any human ear could have detected them. His own running footsteps were silent, for the elves had long been feared and admired for their stealth and lightness of foot. When he came upon them in a clearing he saw that it could hardly be termed a battle. The ranger in the mud caked cloak was gravely out numbered, but he fought with the skill and strength of a great warrior. If it was true that this was the foster son of Elrond it seemed there was little of the child Legolas had known left in him.

The first arrow found its mark in the throat of an orc before his companions could realize their prey no longer fought alone. Indeed, Aragorn himself barely comprehended the fact. Outnumbered and injured his only aim had become to rid the land of as many of these foul creatures as was possible before he himself fell. At the sight of elven arrows raining death upon his foes his thoughts turned immediately to his elven brothers, Elladan and Elrohir. But they remained in Rivendell, stubborn in their resentment towards his love for Arwen. But whoever the unknown archer was Aragorn was grateful to him beyond measure as he felt his own strength begin to fade.

"Estel!" The voice which called his name was familiar to him, but it seemed to come from long ago, some distant and fond memory. He caught sight of the archer's golden hair glinting between the trees and the vague memory solidified, bringing with it a name, a friend.

"Legolas!" He was not certain if he called it in welcome or warning, but then the orcs were upon him again, having recovered from their shock. They closed ranks; surrounding him and cutting him off from aid.

Legolas feared for the ranger as he put aside his bow and drew the long knives from their sheaths. His bow could aid him no longer; Estel needed an aid nearer than a distant volley of arrows. Many orcs had fallen, slain by sword or bow, but still more remained and Legolas could see that the man's strength was leaving him.

Two of the foul creatures fell with the first strike of the deadly twin blades and a moment later two more joined their companions in death. Legolas saw another fall, cut down by Aragorn's sword. Another five struck the ground and for a moment the elf found himself back to back with ranger as they fought. It seemed victory was near.

Then, quite suddenly four things happened nearly all at once. The first was that Gandalf stumbled into the clearing, bleeding and leaning heavily on his staff. The second was an orc leaping at Legolas and the elf could not prevent himself from falling with the impact, leaving Aragorn undefended. The third was an injured orc rising from the ground, a dark blade glittering in his hand as he plunged it deep into the ranger's right shoulder. The fourth and worse than all the rest was the towering dark figure, the Witchking of Angmar who suddenly stood above the fallen ranger; an evil, dark blade was grasped in his iron gloved hand.

He laughed and the sound would haunt the nightmares of wizard and elf alike for many years to come. For a moment Estel's clear grey eyes met Legolas', silently thanking him for his aid. The dark blade descended.

 _ _So...please don't kill me. The next update is coming soon, remember to review! Cheers!__

 _ _A__


	4. The Hope of Men

_Okay, next update as promise. Thanks to all my reviewers! Lydwina Marie; glad you enjoyed and the begging for an update was very inspiring! Isolde of the Night; I agree, it's a good thing Aragorn carries such a blade... Scriptorem stilis; you would be correct in your certainty; he does indeed carry a Morgul blade. Oh dear. I hope you all enjoy and I look forward to your reviews!_

 _Where many paths and errands meet_

 _And whither then I cannot say._

The Lord of the Nazgul misjudged the strength of Numenor that night; it was not so easily crushed as he believed. Even as the foul Morgul blade descended, Aragorn's hand clasped the hilt of the one weapon which might yet aid him. He carried the shards of his ancestor's sword with him always; a reminder of what he may yet, but must never willingly become. The hilt had fallen from his pack as he fell and now it returned to his hand when he had most need of it. Narsil's broken blade flashed like a star as it rose and blocked the wraith's blow.

Legolas rolled to his feet, the last orc dead on the ground and would have leapt to the ranger's aid, but that the wraith turned his hooded gaze upon him. Terror overwhelmed him and froze him in his place; though he fought it the magic of Angmar was strong and he could not escape. Gandalf also was held by the terror and so it was that Aragorn stood alone.

He regained his feet unsteadily; some unknown grace had lent him strength but for how long he did not know. The hooded spirit turned back to his prey, more cautious now. He feared and hated the blade in the ranger's hand. Though no mortal man could kill him the last of Isildur's line held one of few blades with the power to wound him. Forged in the west for kings of men Narsil bore a strange power to overcome even his dark magic. His foe seemed to know that and the ranger's grey eyes held a challenge.

Who was he to challenge the power of Angmar? The last remnant of a failed house; an insignificant man who walked in fear of greatness. Isildur's house had sunk far indeed if this ranger was the last hope of men; the last to stand before the shadow that would wash across the face of the earth. The king smiled behind his hood and prepared to strike him down.

Aragorn knew he could not long stand before the shadow. There was no chance of victory, and as he stared into the hidden face he felt the terror creep into his heart, threatening to hold him captive as it held his friends. He had one last and desperate chance to save them from the dark terror. He knew the blow was coming and knew he had no strength to block it. He stood his ground, made no move to evade the evil blade and let it take him. As the sword pierced his side he struck upward with the last of his strength. Narsil's shortened blade met flesh and as he fell the wraith's shriek of agony seemed to pierce his very soul.

Darkness took him. He was lost in a great and endless void, falling through darkness without time or stars and beyond the reach of any, save the strongest light.

* * *

The shadow released them as the Witchking fled, wounded and filled with fear. Elf and wizard felt the evil leave them, but remained frozen in horror as Aragorn fell, Narsil dropping from senseless fingers. The wraith's shrieks faded to silence in the night before the tore themselves free of the shock. Gandalf came to his senses first and knelt beside the too pale, too still form of the ranger. Legolas joined him, wordlessly cutting his cloak into strips to bandage the man's wounds. Gandalf nodded his thanks as he worked but neither spoke.

His quarrel with the wizard all but forgotten, Legolas felt only a deep sorrow for the boy he had once known and for the last hope of men, lying nearly lifeless in the mud.

"He yet breathes," Gandalf murmured, seeming to reassure himself more than the elf. "Darkness take him now; the wounds of a Morgul blade carry more danger for the spirit than the body. He is nearly beyond my reach." He placed a hand on the ranger's forehead and called out to him in ancient words, bidding him return to the light. He strove against the shadow that held Aragorn in its grasp but could not prevail and could not reach him.

"Mithrandir, he has passed beyond the world where your words can reach him, perhaps beyond where any light can now find him." The elf drew his knife and felt tears rise unbidden to his eyes. "Better for him to die where the light Earendil may yet reach him than to linger on where only shadows and evil dwell." But Gandalf stayed his hand and tears shone in his eyes borne of some deeper grief.

"Peace, Legolas. There may yet be hope. We must bring him to Rivendell with all haste, or would you tell Lord Elrond it was your by your hand that his son perished while there was yet hope to save him?" The wizard's expression was fierce and Legolas sheathed his blade in sudden shame.

"It is many days hard ride to Rivendell and the halls of his father. You know the ways of the shadow, Mithrandir, it will claim him long before we reach aid." Gandalf nodded; his face saddened.

"It may be that you will yet bring him a merciful end, but we must still try. You will take him to Elrond whether it is in time or not."

"We have no horses."

The wizard smiled then and raised his head. He whistled, a long clear sound, silver as a clear ringing bell and singing as starlight. Without a sound a horse of silver white, shining like the stars approached, swift as a bolt of lightning. He was one of the Mearas, Lord of all Horses, and his name was Shadowfax. He greeted Gandalf as he would greet and old friend and Legolas stared in wonder. The wizard smiled at his shock.

"Shadowfax will bear you both to the halls of Elrond with the swiftness of the wind. I have other matters I must look to," with that his expression turned dark. "Ride fast and let nothing delay you. Look to my coming in Rivendell." And with that he was gone.

"Av-'osto, Estel, odulen an edraith angin." _Do not fear, Estel, if I can save you I will._ "By whatever means," he added regretfully.

Shadowfax knelt as Legolas lifted the unconscious ranger to his back. Already the man's skin burned with fever and the elf once more doubted that any power could now save him from that shadow. "Noro, Shadowfax!" he called as he sprang upon the great steed's back. And Shadowfax ran, bearing them swiftly through the lightening woods. Dawn approached.

 _A few notes on continuity:_

 _I know that in the movies Legolas has not seen Shadowfax before and in the books Gandalf's first encounter with him is shortly before the Council of Elrond. All I can do is plead artistic license._

 _As for the distance between Bree and Rivendell most sources seem to agree that Bree is seven days walk from Weathertop and then it is an additional fourteen days to Rivendell. Twenty three days on foot in total then. Given that Gandalf riding Shadowfax traveled from Rohan to Rivendell in six days it makes sense, to me at least, that Legolas and Aragorn can reach Rivendell far more quickly than the Hobbits could in Fellowship of the Ring._

 _A last note about my use of Narsil to wound the Witchking of Angmar. In the books the Westernesse blades, forged in the West had the power to wound the wraith. As Narsil was also forged in the West there seems to be a certain amount of consensus online that Narsil, or Anduril, held the power to would the Witchking, though not kill him when wielded by a man. Western forged blades such as Narsil are also theorized to not disintegrate when used against him, which is helpful otherwise the sword could never be reforged._

 _As always thank you for reading. Another update is coming soon. Leave a review to tell me what you thought!_

 _Cheers,_

 _A_


	5. A Shadowed Land

_Okay, I just can't seem to help myself; here I am posting early again. Thank you to Lydwina Marie and AndurilofTolkien for your kind words and tthank you to everyone who read for your continued support! Here is a link to the awesome map of this section of Middle Earth which I consulted while writing this chapter! I thought it might be more useful than including a lesson on Middle Earth geography in the story. ;-) donsmaps images29 / lotrbreerivendell . jpg, without the spaces_ _._ _The last chapter marked the end of the first section of this tale. This chapter, begun by words from the Barrow Wight's Song begins a new section._

 _Cold be heart and hand and bone,_

 _And cold be sleep under stone:_

When the sun rose at last it brought little light and still less comfort. The air held a chill; the biting cold that heralded the coming of autumn, and the sun lay shrouded beyond a thick vapour of mist. Legolas felt a strong foreboding come over him as Shadowfax ran on beneath the dwindling trees. Soon they would cross into the Downs where scarcely any trees grew and there would be little shelter from either weather or attack. Their best chance for speed, however, lay in following the course of the East to West road until they reached the Last Bridge. Past that the forest would welcome them once more.

The elf's unease only increased as the trees thinned still further and he wished with all his heart to turn back to the places where the forest would protect him. But Estel-no, Aragorn's life depended on crossing the Downs and so cross the Downs they would.

Over thirty years had passed since he last saw the man he was now charged to protect. It was a mere flash in the life of an immortal elf, and yet in that time the wide-eyed child had become a man. He suddenly regretted that he had long avoided Rivendell, unable to face the understanding wisdom of Lord Elrond which might have eased his troubled heart. Had he not been lost in bitterness he might have known what chance led Aragorn to wander so far from his Elven home. He might have eased the troubles which etched lines along the still young face with his friendship. Perhaps his father was right; even in the lives of immortals forgetting was a much needed power.

* * *

Aragorn shifted and fought the hands that held him. He stood upon the brink of a great abyss and at his feet darkness spread for an eternity. He felt himself falling inexorably forward, unable to break free of the iron grip upon him. A voice called to him from somewhere in the swirling tempest that surrounded him, but a great roaring filled his ears and the words were lost. Yet he strained his ears to listen, yearning for any sense of aid or direction in the trackless void, and the voice called again. The darkness could neither deny nor quell its power.

He listened and heard the familiar words of a language he had long held as familiar as his own. "Sedho, Estel! "Av-'osto; loro." _Be still, Estel. Do not fear; sleep._ The abyss before him vanished as though it had never been. The long, dark years rolled back like grey mist before the sun and suddenly it was as if he were a child again.

 _"Why do you fear, child?" Elrond held the trembling boy in his arms, an uncharacteristic gentleness settling over his stern features._

 _"The shadow, ada." The child Estel had long since ceased to address him formally as Lord Elrond but the master of Rivendell was unsure when he began to call him father. It troubled the lady Gilraen that her child had so utterly forgotten his true father, but neither could bear to correct him._

 _"What shadow child? You are safe here; none will bring harm upon you."_

 _The small form uncurled slightly to look up at the elf with pleading grey eyes. "Can I stay with you ada?"_

 _Elrond smiled and placed a gentle hand on the boy's brow. "I would not be parted from you. Sleep, Estel, I will watch over you til dawn." The child's eyelids closed, heavy with the pull of sleep, but not before he heard the whispered words; "I will protect you always, my son."_

 _He smiled, and did not stir again that night, safe in his father's arms as the elf watched the endless spin of stars above them._

* * *

Legolas breathed a sigh of relief when the man's pained features relaxed into a soft smile and he seemed to sink into a restful slumber, but it was to be short lived.

There were bandits on the road when the reached the open spaces of the southern Downs. The path all but vanished when it ran from beneath the trees to the wide, barren expanse, punctuated at intervals by mounds of stone, lone and wind twisted trees, and jagged outcroppings of rock reaching towards the sky like the teeth of a gigantic monster.

Legolas had called for Shadowfax to slow his pace when they began to lose the path. The vast, exposed space made him uneasy and the effort of supporting the unconscious ranger through the long gallop was beginning to tax even the great strength of an elf. It was then he saw them and knew the reason for his vague sense of dread. They numbered no more than a dozen, but they blocked the path where it ran between two jagged towers of rock. Clad in dull greys and greens they blended with their surroundings and it was only by the keen eyesight of his people that Legolas was aware of their presence.

They had no horses, Legolas was certain of that, and could not hope to pursue if Shadowfax ran, but still the prince of Mirkwood hesitated. These men could not be present by coincidence. Few travelers braved the wild expanses, for these were evil times, and ordinary bandits knew their trade well enough to keep to the broad, heavily traveled roads.

The realization struck him with the force of an arrow; they were lying in wait for them. Danger seemed to close about the heir of kings from all sides, dogging his footsteps like an implacable hunter. Legolas called to Shadowfax before the shortsighted men could catch more than a passing glimpse of the horse and his riders; the noble steed turned aside from the path with a snort of displeasure which Legolas silently echoed. They could no longer safely travel by the roads and it would cost them precious time.

* * *

It began to rain again, a slow icy drizzle, and Legolas cursed their bitter luck. He wrapped the ranger's tattered cloak more securely around the man and not for the first time wished he had not left his own second cloak behind with his pack. The remnants of the one he had worn were long since used to replace the blood soaked bandages on Aragorn's side and shoulder. The very elements seemed set against them.

The ranger shivered and Legolas knew his fever had risen again. Without shelter the rain would kill him more swiftly than the shadow could reach his heart. "If any grace of the Valar remain in this thrice cursed land let it be his," he cried to the heavens as he turned his face to the veiled stars. For a moment the clouds were rent asunder and Earendil shone down upon him, bringing a measure of peace once more to his troubled heart.

He found shelter beneath a small ledge of rock which hung over a grassy place from one of the few rises of land. The wizard's warning, "Let nothing delay you," echoed in his mind, but when he looked down at the pale face he knew that to continue that night would bring only death. He laid Aragorn as much beneath the sparse shelter as he could and turned his eyes to the stars once more.

"Nai i lissë Valaron tyë varyuva." _May the grace of the Valar protect you._

 _Next update coming soon drop a review and let me know if you enjoyed this chapter._

 _Cheers,_

 _A_


	6. The Shadow of Things Past

__A thousand pardons for not posting sooner; life got in the way. A three year relationship is in its death throes; any good thoughts you can send my way will be much appreciated. Anyway, here's the next chapter, let me know what you think. Thank you to Warhogg, AndurilofTolkien, and Lydwina Marie for reviewing! :-)__

 _ _Never more to wake on stony bed__

 _ _Never, till the Sun fails and the Moon is dead__

Grey mist surrounded him on all sides as he walked the dim places between life and death. The shadow had retreated from his gaze; the abyss and the void were replaced with the swirling pennants of grey. Though he could no longer see it before him the shadow still haunted him, a dark flash at the edge of his vision that vanished when he turned in fear to face it. Vaguely he knew that somewhere, far away, his body was in pain, but wrapped in the mist it troubled him less than it should. A strange apathy descended upon him as he became a wanderer of the trackless wilds between the worlds.

Memory and fear slowly faded and ebbed, leaving him peaceful. There was nothing, never had been anything, save the grey mist and the flashes of shadow. He was no longer an identity to match any name; he had no name, was faceless as the mist around him.

Then, suddenly and unbidden there was a name, but not his own. __Arwen.__ The remembrance of the single word brought with it a flash of life, of pain so intense it brought him sobbing to his knees. He knew he must, though what he must do he could scarce find strength to comprehend. He must...he must go on, he must endure; he must find a path where no path was made. And all this for the sake of a name more precious to him than his own.

 _ _Arwen!__ He called out her name to the mist and the shadow was pierced with rage. It returned and rent the mist asunder. It plagued him and tore at him; a great maelstrom of evil which sought to extinguish all light. But all that remained of light was the single spark, and the spark was the name, and he would not yield it to the shadow.

The light grew within him and gave him back his own name in a flash of memory. He was Estel. He was Aragorn. The light grew in blinding intensity and fortified his fading strength against the power of the shadow. Faces and names returned to him and each became a spark, a flame in the wall of white fire between him and the raging shadow.

Pain crashed against him and sought to shatter the light as the shadow fought him, not to be so easily undone. The shadow was cunning and assaulted him with memories of death, of pain, of despair, until searching deep within his mind it found the one to bring him agony beyond the others.

 _ _He stood before Elrond, a mere ranger, to ask for the most precious jewel of Imladris; the hand of Arwen in marriage. Even as he spoke of his love for her the countenance of his foster father darkened and his words grew harsh. The price of Aragorn's love would be Arwen's life as she walked the path of Luthien, forsaking the immortal life of her people and becoming forever separated from all those whose blood she shared. Such a price could not be lightly paid and Elrond would not part with her. Not for the man he had raised and loved as a son; not for any mortal man save the king of Arnor and Gondor. She could not be lost to one so lowly as a ranger ever seeking to deny his destiny.__

The darkness rejoiced even as the light diminished and despair threatened to overwhelm the strength of the ranger.

 _ _His brothers turned their faces from him as he rode out from Rivendell He was their brother no longer, their cold eyes said, and he could read the depth of his betrayal in the__ _ _sternness of their voices as they bid him a stiff farewell. He must become a wanderer now; no longer would a family wait to welcome him upon his return, no longer would the House of Elrond be a home and a refuge for him. He was Estel no longer. Though tears stung his eyes he turned for one last glimpse of his home and saw that it was his home no more.__

The darkness laughed as the wall of flame sputtered and died. It lashed out and struck him with all its force; driving him to his knees and yet a spark of light remained. Aragorn wept in the bitterness of his despairing soul but would not relinquish the single bright spark that remained as a beacon of hope to him. Arwen's name he would not surrender to the darkness. She alone had never held him in contempt as a traitor and with that knowledge lay strength the resist and hold strong to the last of the light within him.

Legolas did not sleep, though weariness pulled at him, threatening to overcome him. Elves required little sleep, but he had scarcely stopped to rest since setting out in pursuit of the orc pack. Far over mountains and woods he had tracked them and his fatigue nearly overcame him now. Only the knowledge that danger dogged their path gave him strength to keep a silent watch all through the long and rain soaked night.

The rain was relentless and the shelter provided by the rock was scarce, yet he was grateful for it. When at last the rain abated to a barely perceptible drizzle it was nearly dawn. The elf stood and shook what water he could from his hair and clothes; they must soon ride on or risk the waste of more time.

He found that the ranger yet breathed, though his skin had grown cold as stone. With dread he pulled aside the bandages that bound his side and shuddered at the darkness spreading upward though his veins. When the foul poison reached his heart none would have the power to pull him back from the shadow. It would be soon, too soon; but when he could not know.

Suddenly the twin knives felt like and unwelcome weight upon his back. Perhaps even before the sun rose to shine on another day they would be stained with the ranger's blood. Legolas shuddered at the thought and called to Shadowfax. They set off once more, galloping on beneath the pale, lachrymose sky.

Aragorn did not stir all through that long day, though his face grew steadily paler, leeched of all colour and warmth. Legolas knew he would soon pass beyond the reach of light. The elf's far seeing eyes searched the horizon desperately; longing to see the edge of the forest heralding the end of their journey, but he saw only the Downs stretching before him like an endless sea.

Tears fell unbidden from his eyes but he was not ashamed. It was noble to mourn the passing of a friend, or a man who should have been a friend. He shook his head bitterly, once more feeling loathing at his own foolishness. Aragorn should have been as a brother to him, but for his stubborn denial to let go of the past. He laid a hand across the ranger's cold brow and wished that he would wake. The elf longed to beg forgiveness from him for his absence and his failure to protect him, but Aragorn did not stir.

Determination strengthened the son of Thranduil. He must reach Rivendell in time; he could not fail again. He would not stop to for rest that night; Shadowfax would gallop through the long watches with the swiftness of the spring wind in his steps. And yet, Legolas feared it would not be swiftly enough.

 _ _I know that according to the official timeline Aragorn would not have been betrothed to Arwen yet but it just made sense with the story to write it as I have. Artistic license? Also, I apologise profusely for any grammar errors, omitted words, etc. I wanted to post today and didn't proofread through it very thoroughly.__

 _ _Next update will come soon, hopefully, fingers crossed. Remember to review and thanks for reading! Cheers!__

 _ _A__


	7. When All Other Lights Go Out

_Thank you Lydwina Marie, my faithful reviewer! And thank you to all my silent readers; I hope you are enjoying the story._

 _In the black wind the stars shall die_

 _And still be gold here let them lie_

It seemed that for an age of men he struggled with the shadow. His strength grew as the light he carried grew and enveloped him and in its glow he began to fashion a city for himself. His shattered thoughts took form and their strength was remade as they crafted, not a city of stone and iron, but a city as of the elves. It was filled with light and bordered with great trees which shone like stars. In its heart he made a sanctuary for his weary soul to find rest and filled the silent spaces with music and light from his own spirit.

For a time the shadow was held at bay. It prowled, predatory before the barrier of light but could find no shadowed crack in his thought built refuge through which to slip unnoticed. But the heir of kings was alone and his heart grew heavy as he strength was nearly spent. For a time the city he had built for himself would endure, but when the last of his strength left him it would crumble to ash. The shadow had but to wait a little and then there would be no way for its prey to escape.

Aragorn found rest beneath a great, shining tree, though he knew his doom would come upon him soon. There was nothing further he could do to fortify himself against the darkness and when it came for him he would no longer have strength to run or to resist. But the city of trees shone fair about him and he was glad that in his last moments he would see again, if only in his mind's eye, the fair light of the elven people. It was fitting that one who had lived so long in their light should perish clinging to its last remnants within himself.

Then a stronger light shone upon him and it was not of his own making. Blinding by its brilliance his eyes seemed to burn but his gaze was fixed and even had he wished it he could not have looked away. Slowly the light condensed until it took the form of a man, and yet not a man for he was also a great lord of elves. His eyes held the wisdom of countless ages of the world and upon his forehead there shone a gem of pure starlight. He smiled down upon the battered ranger and for a moment Aragorn felt a flash of recognition.

"Adar?" He asked, his voice made hoarse by the remembered phantom of pain.

The great elven lord laughed and it was a sound of pure joy and mirth, unlike anything Aragorn had ever heard. His heart was lightened at the sound of it.

"Nay, young one. Grandfather, if you wish." His voice was like a strain of music, strange yet familiar; sorrowful, yet filled with a quiet joy.

"Lord Earendil, forgive my ignorance; in my weariness I thought you were my father." He rose and bowed before the Blessed Mariner.

Earendil stretched out a hand to him. "Walk with me, for there is much we must speak of. Tell me, my child, why his your heart weary? Why do you falter before the shadow?" Though his grave voice was kind Aragorn felt a deep shame and looked down, unable to meet his ancient gaze.

"My strength is all but spent, my lord. There can be no escape from the shadow that even now overcomes my very mind. I fear it will take me and I would that I had died before such a fate was mine. To become of a slave of darkness is the fear which has haunted me since I was but a child."

"Estel!" The gentle voice chided him. "You are a child still in the eyes of those who see what you cannot. Does your name not mean hope? And yet you hold so little of that hope for yourself. There are many who hold you worthy of their belief, and yet you do not believe. You are the heir of kings; have you no regard for the fate of men should you fall to this shadow?"

"My lord, forgive me, for I am weak and already lost. Ever have I been undeserving of the power others would grant me. The mantle of kings is not one which I would willingly bear and yet ever is it thrust upon me. Long have I tried to stand alone against the darkness within my very soul and long have I failed. This shadow I cannot banish." He fell to his knees before the great lord and wept in his shame.

The mariner knelt before him and looked into his eyes. "None are deserving of power, least so those who seek and would claim it. A day may come when you must take on the mantle of kings, whether you would or no. Until that day you are right to refuse power, but you must not do so out of fear. There is a shadow within all living things, Estel, you need not fear the shadow within you more than you need fear the darkness of night. Light will prevail, even in the darkest of places. You are stronger than you know, Aragorn son of Arathorn." With a smile he raised Aragorn to his feet. "Above all, even in your darkest of moments, remember this; you have never been alone. Ever have I lit your way and guided your steps; always will my strength dwell within you to light the dark places of this world." He lifted a hand in blessing and was gone, but something of his light remained and Aragorn found his strength fortified to carry on.

* * *

In the soft starlight of that same night Elrond of Rivendell watched the skies with a heavy heart. He feared, though he knew his twins were safe within the borders of Imladris and Arwen could come to no harm in Galadriel's golden realm. Still a shadow lay upon his heart for not all his children were safe and a dark terror haunted his thoughts when they turned to Estel.

The child who called him Ada was a child no longer and the shadow of his love for Arwen fell darkly between them, but Elrond loved him as a son even so. In the long months since their last, bitter parting his foster son was often in his thoughts but never before was the terror of his absence so strong.

His eyes sought the star of Earendil, turning to his father for wisdom and comfort as he had through all his dark and shadowed days. But this night no comfort came, only a deeper sense of urgency. He knew now, beyond doubt that Estel needed him. He rose from his vigil beneath the stars and saddled his horse, the urgency increasing with every moment's delay.

He rode out and starlight shone before him, marking the path he must take. He whispered a quiet word of thanks to his father. His bond with his foster son was strong but Estel was not an elf and it was beyond Elrond's power to sense where he may have wandered. Without the gentle light of the star he would have been truly lost. He could sense that the man was close and his heart grew yet heavier. His peril must be great indeed for the ranger to risk returning to Rivendell with his welcome uncertain. The elf lord felt a deep regret at the harsh words he had spoken before their last parting and silently prayed there would yet be time to mend those wounds.

It was dawn and the stars began to dim when at last he looked upon the Ford and knew; this was where he must wait. To pass beyond the borders of his land would be folly; Estel would come to him and soon. Slowly the sun rose and the light of Earendil faded, leaving him waiting in trepidation for the return of his son. At last his keen eyes caught sight of a horse bearing two disheveled riders beyond the Ford; one was slumped forward and would have long since fallen if not for the strong arms of the other.

He recognized the glint of fair hair; it was Legolas Thranduilion, and his eyes misted with tears for who knew who the other figure must be. Their weary steed splashed at last to the shore and Elrond rose to greet them; his lost son had indeed returned home, but the homecoming would not be joyous.

"Well met, Thranduilion." The lord of Imladris called in greeting as he met them on the river bank. Legolas nodded to him in weary greeting and his eyes were filled with sorrow.

"My lord Elrond, dark is the hour of our meeting. I did not hope to find you so far from your halls and yet it is well you have come for your son is gravely hurt."

They lifted the ranger gently from the horse's back and Shadowfax neighed his thanks; even his great strength was now nearly spent.

"What has befallen him?" Elrond asked of the weary elf at his side when they had laid him upon Elrond's cloak. He nearly wept again when he felt the icy chill upon his son's skin.

"He was struck by a Morgul blade, my Lord. I fear that even now he falls into darkness and has early passed altogether into the Shadow." The younger elf laid a comforting hand on Elrond's shoulder as he knelt beside the still body.

Elrond closed his eyes and sought for even a flicker of light in the darkness surrounding his son's spirit. He sighed at last in relief when he opened his eyes once more and smiled gravely at Legolas. "By the grace of the Valar and your aid he is not yet beyond my reach." And the son of Thranduil wept for joy.

 _Yikes! That is officially the longest chapter I have ever written! Please review? Pretty please? :-)_

 _Cheers,_

 _A_


	8. In The House of Elrond

_Once again, thank you to Lydwina Marie, the ever faithful reviewer! I wasn't going to update tonight; I was going to post a short one shot companion piece instead and then I logged on and saw reviews from Lydwina Marie and Guest1345. How could I fail to update after such kind words?_

 _I do however apologize in advance for this chapter; it's something of a filler chapter. But before that dissuades you from reading I will say that a very important conversation is also included! And so, without further delay...Onward!_

 _Till the dark lord lifts his hand_

 _Over dead sea and withered land._

This must be what insanity felt like, Legolas reflected, when a week later Aragorn still had not awoken, and though a week was scarcely a flash in the life of immortals this particular week seemed long as an age They had borne the injured ranger back to Rivendell with great care and through the healing power of Elrond he seemed to be growing stronger, yet he remained stubbornly unconscious of the world around him. His visible wounds began to heal, save for the darkness poisoned one in his side, which could easily have proved fatal on its own merit if it had not been for the healing power of the elves. It was the well being of his mind that Legolas knew Elrond now feared for.

Legolas watched the usually stoic lord of Imladris fret and fuss over his foster son and again felt the weight of grief and guilt settle over his own heart. For though Elrond assured everyone, most fervently himself it seemed, that the shadow was abating and Aragorn would recover Legolas did not miss the deepening lines of worry on his ageless face when the man did not wake. To think that he himself had nearly taken the life of one so dear to the Firstborn sickened him and perhaps this was why he would not now leave the ranger's side.

On the first day Aragorn's foster brothers, Elladan and Elrohir, appeared, grim and dangerous and upon learning what had befallen their brother they left with scarcely a word. They rode out not an hour later, armed and stern faced to hunt orcs and bandits alike, and Legolas nearly went with them. Some force, however compelled him to stay and so it happened that on the eighth day after his arrival in Rivendell the prince of Mirkwood was still sitting by Aragorn's bedside attempting to concentrate on a weighty volume of Gondolin history. Elrond had not returned from one of his infrequent absences and Legolas suspected that he was yet again scouring his books for any way to further aid the wounded man.

Legolas felt his mind drift as a rare fit of drowsiness swept over him. Though elves required little sleep the prince was weary of spirit and hoped that in dreams he would find peace, however fleeting. He did not resist as sleep overcame him.

* * *

Sunlight streamed through the open windows of Aragorn's old room and fell across the pale face of the ranger and across the half dreaming elf. Aragorn felt some measure of warmth return to his chilled blood and breathed deeply and gratefully of the clear air. He opened his eyes and blinked hazily as blurry shapes swirled above and slowly gained focus as awareness returned. He knew he was in Rivendell though the golden haired elf dozing in the sunlight with his blue eyes wide open was certainly not Glorfindel.

He vaguely remembered a fight and a fall into seemingly endless darkness, but his sleep dim brain could recall little else. The elf by his bedside too seemed familiar but he felt very weary. Exhaustion pulled at him and he had almost given into it when the glazed blue eyes blinked and the elf saw that Aragorn was awake.

"Lord Elrond!" He called, and his voice too seemed familiar. "Estel? Estel, can you hear me?"

Confusion slowly clearing Aragorn nodded. "Legolas?" he asked in bewildered uncertainty and immediately hated how weak his voice sounded.

The elf laughed merrily and leapt to his feet with the inherent grace of his people. "I thought the stars would surely burn to nothing and the earth should crumble before you saw fit to wake. I must fetch your father; he would surely have my head if I did not tell him at once that you have returned to us." For a moment he hesitated as if wanting to say more but shook his head and vanished silently through the open doorway.

Aragorn stared after him and felt a slowly growing dread. He had gone to fetch Elrond and Aragorn could scarcely imagine how he would be able to face his foster father after the words exchanged at their last parting. He had intended never to return to Rivendell, yet here he was, wounded and nearly helpless. For a moment he considered feigning sleep but he could not continue the ruse forever; it would only delay the inevitable confrontation. Before he could decide what to do Elrond seemed to materialize beside the bed and Aragorn was left with no choice but to acknowledge his presence.

"Well met, Lord Elrond." His voice came out as a hoarse whisper and he loathed his own weakness.

For a moment something like pain flashed across the elf's ageless features and Aragorn wondered at it, but just a swiftly as it had come it vanished. "Perhaps it would be well had you not been near death when you were brought to me. Nevertheless, I am relieved you are awake. " His words seemed stiff and far more formal than he had ever spoken to his foster son save once before. Aragorn would have given anything to be far away or asleep again.

"You have my thanks, my lord. I can scarcely remember what occurred but it seems I owe you my life."

Elrond sighed, a strangely human sound and perched gracefully in the chair so recently occupied by Legolas. "Now is not the time to speak of that which is past, and yet I fear we must do so. If we do not speak of these things now the time to do so may pass and much may be left unsaid."

Aragorn struggled to sit up against the pillows and bit back a groan as pain lanced through his side. His head spun and for a moment he feared he would fade back into the darkness that had so long held him. When the pain at last began to fade to a bearable level he saw that Elrond was watching him, his expression inscrutable. "My lord," he began, when he once more had breath to speak. "I beg your leave to remain in Imladris until some measure of my strength returns. As soon as I am able I shall depart and trouble you no more."

Again the brief look of pain flashed across Elrond's face and when he spoke his voice was no longer distant, but very weary. "Estel, why do you speak of troubling me? And have you so swiftly forgotten the love your family bears you that you would call me lord? Does the shadow of our last parting lie so heavy upon you that you would truly wish to be gone from this place and from the care of those who love you?"

Aragorn stared at him; struck dumb by the heavy sorrow in his words and in his eyes. "I-I did not look for you to welcome one you must now regard as a traitor." He had no strength to say more as exhaustion once more threatened to drown him in sleep, and for a moment it seemed that his words had no response.

Elrond was silent for so long that Aragorn was nearly senseless again, but when he spoke his voice shook and it was enough to pull Aragorn back to awareness once more. "It seems we misunderstand each other, you and I. Know this, my son, there is no power on these shores which could lessen my care for you. Though your love for Arwen pains me greatly it does so because now I must lose two children to the far too swift march of time, and it was pain enough to know that I must one day bid you farewell."

Tears filled Aragorn's eyes and he felt a great weight seem to lift from his spirit. His hand trembled as he reached out to his father. "Ada, forgive me, for I have wronged you."

Elrond smiled, though his own eyes too were filled with tears as he clasped his son's hand. "There is no need to ask; I would forgive you far greater folly than this, my son. Now rest, for you are weary and not yet beyond the shadow."

"Ada, will you stay with me?" For a moment he seemed like a child again and Elrond smiled as he repeated the words of so many years before when Aragorn came to him in fear.

"I would not be parted from you. Sleep Estel, I will watch over you." And Aragorn slept, a smile lighting his pale face as the last of the shadow faded from him.

 _I loved writing the ending to this chapter! What did you all think? Let me know in a review! Pretty please? Until next time,_

 _Cheers,_

 _A_


	9. Dark Tidings

_Thank you so much for the reviews! They are an author's catnip! Guest1345; I'm so glad I could brighten your finals week! Silk Leaf; I appreciate your kind words and am glad you liked Earendil! Scriptorem Stilis; hope you enjoy this one as well! And finally, Lydwina Marie! I'm so grateful that you have stuck with me through the whole story so far! I hope you continue to look forward to updates!_

 _Still round the corner there may wait_

 _A new road or a secret gate_

He slept for much of the week that followed, though now it was a restful, healing sleep, and not a sleep borne of darkness and pain. Elrond sat with him often, reading as he slept, and Glorfindel came to inquire after his health. Legolas, however was absent after the first day when Aragorn awoke. He did not wonder overmuch at his absence until Elrond told him briefly how the prince had brought him safely to Imladris. Wishing to thank him Aragorn at last thought to inquire as to his whereabouts but Legolas was already gone.

It seemed he had ridden out in search of the twins on the same day as Aragorn was at last free of the shadow. He had told Elrond he would join the hunt for the bandits who had pursued them since Bree and Elrond, though surprised had seen little reason to dissuade him. This the ranger did wonder at; he had expected Legolas to return to his father's realm, not go questing after those who sought to harm a human he had not seen in decades.

"He will tell you his reasons when he returns and he will return in his own time." Or so Elrond told him when asked and Aragorn did not find that answer overly helpful, but his foster father would say no more.

He wondered too what had befallen Gandalf but received an equally frustrating response, or rather lack of one. By the time a week had elapsed he felt that he was quite ready to leave the confines of his room; if only to show the well meaning elves that he did not need to be treated as an invalid. Elrond, however, disagreed and if the young ranger had still been merely Estel that might have been the end of the matter. But now he was also Aragorn and though he still loved and respected Elrond, the elf's orders, well meaning as they may be, no longer held nearly as much weight.

And so it was that a sunny afternoon sixteen days after his arrival in Rivendell found Aragorn leaning heavily against a tree in the gardens. He cursed the dizziness and lingering weakness that caused him to nearly fall face first into a patch of flowers. Much as he hated to admit it, perhaps his father was right and he was not yet ready to wander unaccompanied through Imladris.

He was just regaining both his breath and his balance when a quiet cough startled him and as he turned in alarm his foot caught on a tree root. For the second time that day he nearly fell and was only saved by a hand catching his arm.

"My dear fellow," laughed Gandalf as he steadied him. "I sometimes despair that you will ever learn to do as you are told." The old wizard looked very merry indeed and his blue eyes twinkled with mirth.

"You seem unduly pleased with yourself," Aragorn grumbled good naturedly as he regained his footing. "When did you arrive?"

"Just now in fact." He blew out a smoke ring that circled his head twice before vanishing. "I had thought to find you resting under the watchful eye of Lord Elrond."

"I was," Aragorn admitted and smiled a tad sheepishly, "Until a messenger arrived from Lorien and distracted him. I've had quite enough rest, though my head does not seem to agree." He added the last remark as another wave of dizziness washed over him.

"I see." The wizard watched him silently for a few moments and his expression grew serious. "Legolas and your brothers have returned with me and I fear the news we bring is grave indeed."

Elrond had approached silently and now he fixed Aragorn with a fearsome glare; Gandalf seemed to be doing his best to vanish into the surrounding trees. "Estel, I told you to rest. And Mithrandir, this is hardly the time!"

Despite his father's stormy expression Aragorn sighed in exasperation. "I have been resting and if I rest any longer I fear I shall lose my wits. I wish to hear what news Gandalf brings and I cannot avoid the outside world forever."

The elven lord seemed to sense defeat though his reluctance to concede the point was palpable. "Very well, but not here. If you stay on your feet any longer you will have no choice but to rest and it will be face first in the flower bed." Aragorn could not help but laugh at the accuracy of that statement.

* * *

When they made their way into the council chamber Legolas and the twins were already present and bore matching expressions of doom. Aragorn sank gratefully into the nearest chair, not wanting to admit how weary he was nor how much his wounds still pained him. Neither was lost on Elrond and he silently prepared himself for a lecture later.

"Well?" The Lord of Imladris demanded somewhat tersely. "What ill tidings does the Grey Pilgrim bring this time? Are we now to be besieged by the same darkness that infects the Greenwood?" Legolas frowned slightly at the mention of his home though it was plain Elrond meant no offense.

"We have all been betrayed." Gandalf's words were only rendered more ominous by the cloud of smoke that nearly obscured his face. Aragorn nearly laughed at the look of disgust on his foster father's face as he edged slightly upwind of the wizard's pipe. "We have long relied on the trustworthy nature of the Dunedain to keep the secret of Aragorn's survival and identity from our enemies. It seems our trust has been misplaced."

Aragorn shook his head and immediately regretted the movement. "Gandalf, you must be mistaken. It is true I have not long been their chieftain but my own kin would not betray me."

"And yet they have."

"The wizard speaks truly," Elladan said, rising. "We tracked a group of bandits wandering near the borders of Imladris. They were the same that Legolas nearly ran afoul of on the Downs, and their leader is a ranger. Elrohir and I knew him when we aided your father."

Aragorn could find no words to respond; such betrayal was unthinkable, and yet, how could he blame the rangers? They were asked to give their trust, their very lives even, to a man who could scarcely be counted as one of them and had spent less than a year in their company.

"If word were to reach our enemies that the heir of Isildur overcame the shadow and yet lives there would be no corner of the land that remained safe for him." Elrond looked to Gandalf, seemingly for denial but the wizard was nodding.

"I fear it is as you say. He must make his stand now or spend his life hunted and unable to trust even his own kin." Gandalf turned expectantly to Aragorn and he realized that everyone was looking to him for his decision. He had no answer for them.

 _A day may come when you must take on the mantle of kings whether you would or no. Until that day you are right to refuse power._ Earendil's words rang clearly in his mind and somehow he was certain that the day had not yet come. It was not time to a make a stand and claim power; he was not ready.

"The ranger, did you bring him here?" Despite his best efforts his voice shook and Elrond seemed about to order him back to bed.

Elrohir nodded and spoke for the first time. "He is locked in an empty room and Glorfindel guards the door." He smiled slightly. "Even northern rangers know the folly of trying to escape the Balrog slayer."

"Does he know I am alive?"

"No, we did not think it wise to discuss your recovery in his presence." Legolas smiled slightly as he answered and Aragorn wondered if the Mirkwood elf had guessed his plan.

"I think I may have a solution." He turned apologetically to Elrond. "I am afraid you will not approve Ada."

 _Apologies for the shortness of this chapter; if I didn't cut it off here it would have been very long indeed and it is rather late. Next update coming soon! Then you can find out all about Aragorn's plan and whether or not the rangers have betrayed him! Yikes! Leave me a review and thanks for reading!_

 _Cheers_

 _A_


	10. The Conspiracy Revealed

_My most humble apologies for the lack of an update yesterday! I had to work and then I spent all day today at Ren Fest; which was amazing! Reviews really are the best though! Thank you to everyone who read and reviewed the last chapter. Silk Leaf; Gandalf is definitely an old coot! That's the perfect way to describe him! Guest1345; my advice is do it! Take the leap, make the account! If you're worried about finishing stories maybe just start small and work up to longer ones. And, honestly, everyone starts thinking they aren't good at writing, but we work and we learn and feedback helps us grow. I would definitely encourage you to give it a shot! Scriptorem Stilis; I'm glad this was better than no chapter! I agree, it is difficult to believe in their betrayal but all will soon be revealed. Lydwina Marie; as always your encouragement is an inspiration to me! Sorry the update was slow to come! Also, apologies for any stylistic errors; I was working through a severe case of writer's block while writing this. :(  
_ _Whew! Long AN, now on to the story!_

 _And though we pass them by today_

 _Tomorrow we may come this way_

"Absolutely not!" The Lord of Imladris glared ferociously at Gandalf as though it were he and not Aragorn who had just finished speaking. "I will not agree to Estel being anywhere near that traitor!"

Aragorn sighed wearily. "I knew my plan would not sit well with you but I can see no other way. If the man you captured is a ranger he will not tell you why he has betrayed me, but he will tell me."

"And in allowing him to do so we endanger your life as I suppose he will not speak unless you are alone. This is not a plan, Estel, it is a death wish!" Elrond turned somewhat imploring to his sons and Legolas but the son of Thranduil was looking towards Aragorn in thoughtful agreement and the twins would not meet their father's gaze.

"My dear friend, your care blinds you," Gandalf interceded gently. "In your concern for your son you do not see the greater good. I have known you for many years and you are far wiser than any of us; you cannot but see the merit of this plan. If all goes well no harm shall befall him."

Elrond sank back into his chair with a sigh. "And if all does not go well, Mithrandir? What then? Will I yet have to bury my children before their time? For if Estel should fall Arwen will soon follow him to the grave." Gandalf had no answer and Aragorn too was at a loss for words; neither man nor wizard could answer the grief in Elrond's words.

"He will come to no harm." The quiet words were filled with such certainty that for a moment it was unclear who had spoken. "By your leave, my lords, I will see that he is safe," Legolas continued just as quietly but with the same steady assurance. "I should have been as a brother to you Estel; perhaps it is not too late for me to become a friend."

Aragorn studied the elf curiously but whatever motivated him to speak was not evident in his calm, inscrutable expression. He nodded gratefully. "I would be honoured to count you as a friend; you have already safeguarded me through many dangers and I will willingly trust you with my life once more."

Elrond shrugged in defeat. "Very well, since you are determined my son, and no one seems willing to stop this foolishness. You claim you can learn this ranger's true intent and motivation but you have deemed it necessary that he is not informed of your recovery. I fail to see how your plan can be effective if he must believe you dead or nearly so."

Aragorn braced himself for the storm he knew would follow his next words. "He will not think me dead; he will kill me. But, before he does he will tell me why."

* * *

Legolas could not meet Glorfindel's eyes as the other elf smiled brightly at him. He knew the older elf had always been fond of him in the days he visited Imladris often and that knowledge made him feel more a traitor as he prepared to deceive him.

"Lord Elrond bids you meet him in the council chamber immediately; I am to take your place guarding the ranger." Even though he spoke quickly he felt no less easy about the deception but it was necessary. Glorfindel regarded him intently, sensing something was amiss, but to Legolas' relief he was not challenged and with a nod he Balrog Slayer relinquished his post. He waited until he was certain he was alone and then opened the door silently and slipped inside.

The man sat, hunched forward on the floor, legs drawn up to his chest and forehead resting upon his knees. He raised his head slightly and regarded the elf coldly before seeming to decide the newcomer was of little or no interest to him and returning to his former position.

"Get up; hurry." The man raised his head again at Legolas' words and laughed bitterly.

"So, you've come to kill me then. Get on with it; I care not for my own life now that my mission is complete. I only regret that it was not my hand which took the life of my would be chieftain." The hatred in his words was bitter as poison.

"He is not dead and if left to the care of Elrond he will recover, but I can aid you. He may yet die by your hand if you will but trust me."

The ranger rose cautiously to his feet. "And I am to believe that one who hunted me for wishing harm upon my chieftain would now aid me in his murder? I would sooner trust an orc than an elf."

"I bear no love for your kind." Legolas chose his words carefully and silently raised a prayer to the Valar that his voice would not waver. "They are a scourge upon this land. I sought you so that you might aid me; have you forgotten so soon that it was I who saved you from death at the hands of Elrond's sons? I bade them bring you here, and all so that you might destroy the hope of men."

The ranger was silent for a long moment and Legolas began to despair, it seemed his words were not believed. At last the man nodded tersely. "Very well, but you must give me a weapon if I am to commit murder."

Now Aragorn's life lay once more in the hands of a near stranger, but Legolas would not fail in his trust. He shook his head and handed the man a small glass vial in place of a weapon. "Our deed must remain undetected; this potion will stop his heart if he drinks it but will be undetectable even to the most skilled of healers. It will seem as though he has succumbed to the shadow and his injuries."

Again the man hesitated but he seemed to realize he had few other options and took the potion with a scowl. Legolas led him swiftly through the deserted halls; Elrond had ordered the guards to depart their posts though he had not told them why and so they met no one. When they reached Aragorn's door Legolas remained on guard before it though he listened intently for any sign that his assistance was needed. It was for Aragorn to play his part now but he must intervene should the other ranger suspect a trick. Elrond silently joined him a moment later; his face drawn with worry.

* * *

Aragorn blinked wearily as the other ranger slipped into the room, silent as a shadow. He recognized the man immediately; his name was Eradan, a respected member of the rangers and a distant uncle of Halbarad his own kinsman. His heart grew heavy at the final proof; until that moment he had hoped his brothers were mistaken. He had hoped that somehow the rangers had not betrayed him, but that hope now fled as Eradan stood over him with hate in his eyes.

"So it is true; you yet live."

"You have betrayed me; I would know the reason why." Aragorn wished the weakness in his voice was a trick.

Eradan pulled a chair closer to the bed and sat; holding the vial Legolas had given him up for Aragorn to see. "You will die this day so I see no reason not to tell you all. I loved your father as if he were my own brother though our paths rarely crossed. I mourned his passing bitterly and yet rejoiced that his child lived on; you were the last glimmer of hope for a dying people. When you returned to us, your people, I rejoiced for a time, but I swiftly learned that it was the son of Elrond, not of Arathorn who now claimed the right to lead us. You would dare attempt to take the place of a far greater man when you are but a pawn of the elves! I will not bow to elves, nor will I risk my life and my people for one who is their puppet. Far better you had died as the infant son of the North than lived to become a son of Elrond!"

"How many feel as you do?" He felt a sudden rush of pity for Eradan; he had lost much and now his misguided pride in the legacy of his people had robbed him of more.

"Few; most believe you are their salvation. They cannot see the truth as I can. But some have chosen to follow me; some see that you are not fit to lead us. We will make alliances where we must, even with orcs and wraiths, if it means we will remain a free and a proud people. We will not allow the elves to trick us into becoming their slaves!"

Madness glinted in his eyes and suddenly Aragorn sensed another, darker power at work in the mind of the other ranger. Some force had planted the seeds of fear and hatred towards the elves in his mind and his own pride had allowed the madness to spread. Perhaps it was not the rangers who were to blame for their betrayal; some other force was set against him.

Eradan stood suddenly and gripped Aragorn's face with savage strength, forcing his jaw open, and Aragorn did not fight him. The potion Elrond had provided would cause him to fall into a deep sleep; his heartbeat and breathing slowing enough to mimic death. With his mission completed Eradan would doubtless carry news of Aragorn's death back to the rangers and the traitors among them would cease to hunt him. He drank the potion calmly, trusting his father's skill with herbs; what Aragorn had not expected was the hand that closed over his nose and mouth, cutting off all air to his lungs.

"You will not escape death; that I will be sure of." And as his sight faded Aragorn saw again the madness in the man's eyes.

 _That plan almost went so well, but best laid plans and all that..._

 _Anyway, this isn't listed as wildly AU so it must work out alright...probably. Next update coming soon and then probably one or two more after that. There are just a few things to be resolved before this tale comes to a close! Please review! Than you for reading; see you next time!_

 _Cheers,_

 _A_


	11. The Shadow Passes

_I am fairly certain this is the last chapter; I am truly honoured by the amount of support this story has received and hope to read more stories (and reviews!) by all of you. Guest1345; please let me know what your fanfic id is when you create an account. I want to read your work! Lydwina Marie; sorry for any confusion, hopefully the edit helped, and, as always, thank you for your kind words! Scriptorem Stilis; glad you enjoyed the chapter! If your interested in knowing what is really behind Eradan and ther others' betrayal I am working on a oneshot that explains in more detail what happened. Hope everyone enjoys this chapter!_

 _And take the hidden paths that run_

 _Towards the moon or to the sun._

The two elves stood listening before the door, still and silent as guardian statues carved from marble. Though the two men inside spoke in quiet voices the keen ears of the elves heard all that passed between them. Elrond's heart grew heavy as he listened; ever had the elves and rangers toiled and fought together to reshape the darkened land into one of light and hope once more. It pained him greatly to hear that even a few bore such resentment to those who should be friends and allies.

When the voices grew silent Elrond was seized by a terrible foreboding and he saw his own fear reflected in the eyes of Thranduil's son. "Something is not right." Legolas drew his twin knives as he spoke.

"Whatever has happened you must do what you have agreed." Elrond warned the younger elf. "The traitor must escape to bear the news of his victory to the others. the words were bitter to him but he would respect his son's wishes.

Legolas nodded tensely. "It will be done." But it was clear from his voice that he liked the thought of allowing Eradan to escape no more than the lord of Imladris did.

Elrond flung the door wide open and fear chilled his blood at the sight that met him. Eradan stood over the bed with madness glinting in his eyes. His hands were clenched so tightly over Aragorn's nose and mouth that his knuckles showed white; if Aragorn had ever fought him he did so no longer. The potion vial lay empty and broken upon the floor and Elrond could but hope that alone was the reason for his son's stillness. All this he saw in the moment it took him to cross the room; he lifted the man by his short collar and nearly threw him at Legolas.

Eradan fought, kicking and clawing, his mouth foaming like that of a rabid animal, but it was to no avail; Legolas caught him in an iron grip and it was well that the man did not see the hatred in his eyes.

"Take him away and let me never lay eyes on him again, for he has killed my son!" At that moment Elrond wished nothing more than that his words might prove false. Legolas nodded, understanding the unspoken command; he must now aid in Eradan's escape. He dragged the madman from the room and wished that his task were any but the one now given him.

Elrond knelt beside his son and felt for a pulse, hoping beyond reason. The potion he had made would have slowed both pulse and breath to a near halt and it was this that kept him from despair when he found no sign of life. He could but wait in hope until the potion's power was spent. He called out to his own father in supplication but the sun was yet high in the heavens and the Mariner's ship lay moored on the far western shores of Valinor. Earendil heard his son's cry and wept for his grief but comfort was far beyond his power; he could but watch.

The sun slowly crept towards the west in her slow journey over the earth and homeward; the sky darkened to soft twilight and still Elrond sat in lonely vigil beside his son and no one dared disturb him in his grief. The Valar could not be so cruel as to deliver Aragorn from the shadow of Angmar only to allow him to fall prey to the hatred of a traitor. He raised his eyes to the heavens where the first stars began to show and again cried out out his father.

As if in answer Aragorn coughed and began to stir; it seemed the Valar were indeed not so cruel.

* * *

Legolas returned early the next morning; his steps weary from the long leagues spent tracking Eradan to the borders of Imladris and to the wilds beyond. Though his heart was filled with joy to hear that Aragorn lived and would soon be well he found he could not yet face the questions he knew he would now be asked. He himself did not know why he felt such a bond of friendship with one he scarcely knew and could no better answer.

He walked alone in the gardens of Imladris and sought to find peace beneath the wise trees only to find he was not alone. Mithrandir sat beneath an ancient oak, surrounded by a cloud of smoke so thick and strong that it made the elf's eyes water.

The wizard regarded him thoughtfully and for a moment neither spoke. After a long pause Legolas broke the silence and though the words did not come easily to his proud heart he knew they must be spoken. "I must ask your pardon, Mithrandir, for the enmity I bore you when first we met in Breeland."

"You blamed me for what took place at Erebor, did you not?" He seemed more thoughtful than angry and Legolas nodded. "And you were right to do so. It was I who set the sparks of those events and fanned them to flame. And yet, for good or ill they were necessary; I do what I must and can offer you no apology, Thranduilion. I can however, offer you friendship, if you will accept it?"

Again Legolas nodded. "Long years have I carried my bitterness like a wound upon my heart; it was borne of a bitter day and the blood of my kinsmen. I know not by what grace I am now granted freedom from it but I would not now carry it a moment longer. I would be glad indeed to count you as a friend once more."

Gandalf smiled and put out his pipe, much the elf's relief. "It seems, my dear boy, that for good or ill the same forces which guide me now guide you to offer your loyalty and friendship to Isildur's heir. I am glad of it; he will need your aid before the end." His words held the ring of prophecy and were somehow reassuring.

Legolas smiled and went to find Aragorn feeling more peaceful now than he had since the dwarves escaped his father's kingdom and brought ruin upon his kinsmen.

* * *

For once Aragorn found himself uninclined to leave his room. He felt his strength returning though his head ached terribly, but Eradan and the others' betrayal haunted him still. Many were yet loyal to him, this he could not doubt, and they would grieve at news of his death. Elladan and Elrohir were charged to tell Halbarad the truth in secret and with him watch and wait until the traitors revealed themselves by word or deed, and yet, he could not but wonder if he was indeed failing his people.

He would return to them when the traitors among them were revealed and no longer a threat but still it felt he took the coward's path. He knew it was wise to wait; darker powers than traitors must have time to hear news of his death and take it to be truth. There was only one who had the power to command the Lord of the Nazgul and it was he above all else that made the deception necessary. The bright air of Rivendell seemed to darken as Aragorn's thoughts turned to the wraiths and the one they served and a dull pain flared in his side. Elrond had warned him that the wound would always trouble him to some degree, but it was a small price to pay if he was to be free of the shadows. He could never be free nor hope to escape them while the Lord of the Dark Land hunted him and so he resigned himself to waiting though it felt like a betrayal. And that was how Legolas found him; sitting before the window, gazing into the East with thoughts of the Shadow haunting his mind.

"Estel?" He turned to the elf with a sad smile and the bruises left on his face by Eradan's mad attempt at murder looked dark in the fading light of evening.

"There are few who still call me by that name," he said, somewhat wistfully. "Even Gandalf has grown used to calling me Aragorn."

Legolas nodded in understanding; Estel of Rivendell would be no more. "A shadow gathers in the East," he said, following Aragorn's gaze to the horizon. "Will you stand against it?"

"I will." And the words pained him though they were necessary. "But the time has not come for me to do so openly. The servants of the Dark Tower think me dead and I would that they continue to do so. I must walk the paths of shadow, helping where I can and learning what I may of my enemies."

"Where will you go?"

"Gandalf bids me ride to Rohan and to Gondor; he would have me seek what courage remains in the hearts of men. From there, who can say where my path will lead."

"And for a time I will walk those paths with you if I may." Legolas scarcely knew why he spoke as he did, but remembering Gandalf's words he chose to trust whatever forces bade him speak thus.

Aragorn nodded and after a moment he smiled. "I would be glad of your company my friend." They sat in silence after that and watched the shadow of coming night spread across the land. Yet even in the darkness the stars shone brightly; beacons of hope that no darkness or shadow could dim. Isildur's heir would not walk alone through shadow.

 _I'm strangely sad to bring this story to a close. I am open to writing a sequel if anyone is interested since I have now made this a slight AU with Legolas traveling to Rohan with Aragorn. Let me know if anyone wants to read a sequel. I'm also working on a oneshot detailing Eradan's descent into darkness so watch for that coming soon. A last and very fond thank you to everyone who read, reviewed, followed, or favourited this story! You have all been amazing. Until next time, please drop me a review!_

 _Cheers_

 _A_


	12. A Quick Announcement

_Sorry, no this isn't a new chapter, just an announcement. I am revising this story currently with one chapter being updated a day. The plot will remain the same but I am fixing some minor plot holes, extending some scenes, and fixing some inconsistencies. Check out the revisions if you want to :-)_

 _Also, new one shot being posted the day after tomorrow! YAY!_

 _Cheers_

 _A_


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